The Library Years
by Violinboy
Summary: An in depth continuous fic about Liraels adventures in the Library. Wil update soon if there are more reviews, so please R and R.


The Library Years: Chapter 1

Miniature Abhorsen

Lirael woke, her eyes puffy with the lack of sleep. She rubbed her hands in her eyes to clear the sleep, but jerked her hand away sharply as it met a thick film of dog saliva. Groggily she turned her head and came nose to nose with the Disreputable Dog, who grinned and nipped her nose in a sharp, but nonetheless affectionate manner. "Morning, Mistress," The dog woofed quietly, baring her teeth in the canine equivalent of a smile. "When are we going for a walk?" Lirael groaned and stood up, evidently not in the mood for walking. Her every bone groaned and creaked after the events of last night. Evidently, she had fallen asleep in her small study after binding the Stilken. At the memory of this, a triumphant smile lit up her face. She had bound a Stilken, using advanced magic, and had prevented major damage to herself. Still, she ran a hand over her body to check for minor abrasions that could be noticed by other Librarians or even Aunt Kirrith, her formidable and faintly annoying Aunt. The dog grinned with her, remembering the triumph, and licked her hand again for good measure. The faithful hound was rewarded with a gentle head scratch while Lirael relived the moment of euphoria.

Suddenly, Lirael's face fell. "What time is it, Dog?" Lirael turned and stumbled to the door and put her hand on the latch, the cold steel of the handle refreshing against her tired flesh, her palm sore from wielding the heavy sword the night before. "It is…" the Dog cocked her head to one side as though listening intently, her tan ears folding gently as they drooped towards the floor. "…It is shortly before the sixth hour of the morning, give or take." Lirael sighed and rested her head against the rough wood of the door, the rasping touch sliding over the wrinkles on her forehead as she screwed up her face in an effort to concentrate. Finally deciding on a course of action thorugh the sleepy haze that was filling her head, she silently opened the door and started to trudge towards the Hall of Youth and her small chamber, her sandals whispering on the cold stone floor, with the Dog padding along beside her. The steady click of the Dog's claws lulled her into a state of sleep, and her monotonous footsteps echoed quietly down the hall. She almost missed the turning for her chamber; only a discreet nudge from the dog kept her on course. Once inside, Lirael collapsed onto the bed, falling instantly into a deep and dreamless sleep. The Dog promptly curled up into a ball, and fell asleep, whilst the tip of her tail tickled her nose as she ran through green fields and chased plump rabbits across grassy meadows.

An hour later, as the great bell tolled and called the Clayr from their beds to the breakfast halls, the Dog woke and padded over to the sleeping Lirael. She gently licked her ear, but Lirael only moaned softly and rolled over. The Dog wrinkled up her nose in an effort to appear disgruntled, and nipped Lirael sharply on the leg. "Ow!" Lirael scrambled up quickly, tripping over the sheets and falling onto the floor. "Daft dog! You didn't have to bite me. It wasn't a self pity moment either." Lirael glared at the Dog, trying to be angry. She failed, and a stray smile escaped from her face at the sight of the Dog's face that begged for forgiveness. She walked to the wardrobe with a sigh, pulling out the typical yellow waistcoat of a third assistant librarian and a pair of doeskin breeches. Quickly dressing herself, she addressed herself in the mirror, and pulled her thick black hair behind a leather band. After pulling on a pair of well-worn leather boots, she checked everything was in order and walked out of the door.

Stifling a yawn she set off through the cavernous halls to the lower refectory, her feet following the well-worn route that had become habit for her in the past weeks. _Weeks, or months? _thought Lirael, mind fuzzy and vague after the distinct lack of sleep, still barely able to focus on the task at hand. She lamented the loss of her canine friend, who had sidled off to the library at the first possible moment, eager to stay away from the already bustling halls, packed with Clayr and guards, traders and children. Huge brindled wolfhounds were tethered at points on the wall, leather leads looped around Charter spelled iron rings, gnawing on meaty bones or slurping greedily from large dishes of water. Lirael grinned and walked quietly towards them.

A smaller dog pricked its ears and padded softly towards her and gave her hand a tentative sniff. Lirael scratched the dogs head and it licked her hand, it's rasping tongue somehow comforting, despite the wet stickiness of dog spittle. Soon, Lirael was kneeling by the dog and scratching its' back, to the contented whines of the recipient. A quiet, accented voice spoke from nearby, laced with dry humour. "And here's me thinking that young Yep there's a guard dog," the amused voice stated.

Startled, Lirael jumped up, flustering as she saw a tall, lean young man dressed in hunting leathers leaning laconically against the wall. He grinned, white teeth flashing in the early sunlight that filtered through into the Glacier, reflected by hundreds of cunningly crafted mirrors wedged in niches and crannies all through the ice. The dog, Yep, pricked his ears and snuffled at the package that the man carried, whining and grunting as he tried to grab it with his teeth. The man laughed and unwrapped it, revealing a meaty ham bone, fresh from the kitchens. Yep barked happily and quickly set to work gnawing on the bone, whilst Lirael laughed at the dogs no-nonsense attitude towards the task at hand. The stranger laughed with her and eventually she calmed down enough to ask him a question. "Why is he called 'Yep'?" she asked, puzzled by the strange name. The man grinned. "He was a present from my parents on my seventh birthday. My friends and family asked if I was pleased with my presents, and I kept answering 'yep', and the dog kept looking up. By the end of the day, he wouldn't answer to anything but Yep." Lirael laughed at the anecdote. "Where did you live?" asked Lirael, intrigued by this man and his dog. He replied slowly, with a hint of sadness in his voice. "From around High Bridge. We used to live together in a small farmhouse in a village just north of High Bridge itself. It…it was a good life." He said this last sentence with an awful finality, as though it should be an ending. Lirael, however, filled with the verve of a conversation that involved more than ten consecutive words, pushed harder, wanting to know more about the outside world. Somewhat reluctant, he continued. "A few years later, a necromancer attacked, using dead hands as arrow fodder before wading in and killing almost all the villagers. Some escaped, but my parents died, along with my sister. I was hunting with Yep, stalking deer in the forest to the northeast. When I returned, I salvaged what I could and made my way anywhere I could. Just one man, his dog and a quarterstaff. And a strange book, that was in the village, but nobody ever knew what it was for. I took it, because I thought I might be able to sell it, for food or lodgings. I never had the chance, or ever wanted to. I can't even read the script, and I don't know anything or anyone that could translate it. You can have it if you want." Lirael thanked the man, and he removed a small red book from inside his leather jerkin. He handed it to her, and the shiny leather glinted in the sunlight. She thanked him and continued to talk genially with the man for another five minutes, before heading on to the lower refectory for breakfast. A couple of other Third Assistants looked on in incredulity as Lirael grinned and jogged off up the hall towards the Refectory. "That bloke must have been paying her to talk to him," one said in disbelief. "I still think it was the dog that kicked things off," snorted the other impudently, only to receive a swift whack upside the head. "Cheeky bugger…."

Lirael ate as she did normally, quickly and without speaking, sitting by herself in a secluded corner of the Lower Refectory. She quietly scanned the multitude of traders and guardsmen to see if there was anyone who may come to bother or attempt a conversation with her. She allowed herself a furtive grin when she saw nobody, and resumed eating her frugal meal, pausing occasionally to look around the stone cavern that made up the refectory. Stray Charter marks Whisked around the upper reaches of the room like stray sunbeams, whilst other marks wormed their way through the stone. People bustled about their breakfasts, the servers smiling and chatting as they doled out sausages and bacon, fruit and sauces to spread over pieces of fresh bread. The whole room smelled and almost tasted of life, and Lirael realised what she had done by binding the Stilken. She, and she alone, had potentially saved the lives of these people. She had, single-handedly, ensured that that…beast, that _monster _couldn't harm these people. That gave her a fierce sense of purpose for the first time in fourteen years. The Abhorsen sorted out the kingdom. But in the Library, _she _was boss; _she_ knew how to play the game.

Over the next few days, Lirael saw herself as a miniature Abhorsen, filled with a memory of euphoria and a fierce determination to simply make things right. Then, when the first mouse entered the Reading Room, Lirael felt anharsh and relentless urge to fight.


End file.
